


Substitute

by HermitLibrary_Archivist



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-26
Updated: 2008-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-22 13:20:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4836809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HermitLibrary_Archivist/pseuds/HermitLibrary_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>By Vanessa Mullen.</p><p>The only person who understands Avon's feelings for Blake is Gan, but Avon isn't in love with Gan...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Substitute

**Author's Note:**

> Previously published in 'Southern Comfort 8.5'.
> 
> Note from Judith and Aralias, the archivists: This story was originally archived at [Hermit.org Blake's 7 Library](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Hermit_Library), which was closed due to maintenance costs and lack of time. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2015. We posted announcements about the move and emailed authors as we imported, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Hermit.org Blake's 7 Library collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hermitlibrary/profile). 
> 
> This work has been backdated to 26th of May 2008, which is the last date the Hermit.org archive was updated, not the date this fic was written. In some cases, fics can be dated more precisely by searching for the zine they were originally published in on [Fanlore](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Main_Page).

Blake flung a handful of sand at Jenna and she ducked, laughing loudly. She bent, grabbed a handful from the beach herself, and tossed it back with unerring aim. Blake rubbed the grit out of his hair ruefully, then, just as Jenna thought the mock battle was over, he sprinted forward, caught her around the waist and kissed her. Laughing, she pushed him away. Then Blake caught Cally's eye. With a "can't catch me" look, she sprinted over the sand away from him. Determined, Blake set off in pursuit. Twisting and turning, they dodged through the trees that fringed the beach, until Cally tripped over a root, and Blake claimed his reward.

      Cally was slim and supple in his arms, as they lay for an instant in the cool sand in the shade. Then he looked round for Jenna once more.

      "No," she protested cheerfully, with a shake of her head. "I'm worn out. Go chase someone else." A wicked glint entered her eyes. "Give Avon a run. I don't think he's been really entering into the spirit of things. The first holiday we've actually managed to talk you into, and all he can do is walk along the edge of the sea."

      "That's right," Vila piped up, waving a glass of some tropical looking beverage that Zen had synthesized, "the man has no idea of how to enjoy himself."

      Jenna glanced down the beach to where Avon stood watching them. "Go on," she challenged Blake. Grab him, make him join in."

      Gan looked up from where he was stretched out on a towel. "If Avon wants to be alone, maybe you should leave him."

      "We are a group," Cally said. "On Auron it would be considered wrong to leave one alone in such a manner. Avon should be one with us, not separate."

      "Bet you a glass of passion fruit and soma that you can't catch him," Vila challenged.

      Blake measured the distance. It shouldn't be too tricky. He could cut Avon off between the sea and the headland. He loped off at a steady run, enjoying the idea of the hunt.

      "Hey, Avon!" Vila shouted. "Look out!"

      Avon eyed the situation and began to move away. As Blake approached, he left the water's edge and moved towards the trees. Blake had allowed for that. He changed his angle of approach and ran a little faster. Avon broke into a run. Blake grinned to himself. It would be a close thing as to whether Avon reached cover in time. As they drew closer, Avon speeded up. He was running seriously now. Blake caught a glimpse of his face in profile. Avon didn't look like a man running in a game - he looked like a man who was fleeing a serious threat. Couldn't the man ever take a joke? Slightly irritated, Blake put on a final burst of speed as they passed into the shade of the trees. Diving forward, he threw his weight against Avon, knocking the other man off balance.

      Avon fell awkwardly to the ground and Blake landed on top of him, retaining the advantage. Avon struggled beneath him, trying unsuccessfully to throw off Blake's weight. Blake wondered for a moment what Avon was so afraid of. What was he expecting Blake to do, for heaven's sake? From the way Avon was twisting his head away, it would seem that he expected Blake to try and kiss him as he had kissed Jenna and Cally. The idea was almost laughable - so laughable that Blake was perversely annoyed by Avon's expectation. If that was what Avon expected, then that was what he was going to get, no matter how much he objected.

      Blake seized Avon's head in both hands and forced it around to face him. He brought his mouth down hard, putting far more force into the kiss than he had with either of the girls. Avon's struggles intensified, then abruptly ceased. Blake felt all resistance fade away. Avon's eyes closed. His lips melted under Blake's; the mouth opening to give him entrance. Blake could feel Avon's body arch under him, pressing hard against him. A low moan sounded deep in Avon's throat, an almost unimaginable loss of control.

      Blake pulled back in shock, breaking all contact between them. Avon's eyes blinked open, staring into his - deep, dark, and lost.

      For the first time he could remember, Blake was lost for words. This hadn't been what he had intended. It had been a game, nothing more. What Avon had revealed to him now was something that he felt incapable of handling. 

      "I'm sorry," Blake said meaninglessly. "I didn't know." 

      He got clumsily to his feet, trying to give himself some space. Avon remained, lying supine in the sand.

      "I'm sorry," Blake said again.

      "And that excuses everything," Avon replied bitterly.

      Blake stammered on, trying to find the words to extricate himself from the situation. "I've nothing against homosexuality. I mean, everyone is entitled to love wherever they want to. It's just that - "

      "Just that you don't feel that way about me." Avon completed the sentence for him. He rolled away to lie on his side, half curled up, back pointedly facing Blake. "Just go away," he said tightly. "Just go away and leave me."

      "It's not you personally," Blake tried to explain. He felt hideously awkward. It was a very embarrassing situation to be in, and it had to be even worse for Avon. "It's just that I've never been attracted to men."

      "Do you think I don't know that?" There was an awkward catch in Avon's voice. Then he placed his hands over his head, shutting Blake out of his world. "Now go!" The last words were almost shouted.

      Blake looked down at him. It was a problem with no solution. Avon was not going to forgive him for this for many a day, if ever. He tried to imagine for a moment that he was making love to Avon. The image stirred no emotional response in him at all, apart from a slight sense of revulsion.

      He liked Avon. He respected him. He'd even risk his own life for him, but this was an area where Blake could not help him at all. Sadly, he walked back across the beach back to where the others were waiting.

      "Well?" Vila inquired. "Did I win?"

      "What?" Blake looked at him blankly.

      "Did he escape, or do I owe you a drink?"

      Of course, they wouldn't have seen. He rubbed the back of his neck tiredly. "Yes, I caught him. But I'll pass on the drink. I don't feel like it right now."

      Jenna, always perceptive, caught onto him at once. "What's wrong?" she asked.

      Blake coloured. "Nothing."

      "Funny kind of nothing," Vila commented, "when you leave here like a six year old playing games and come back looking like a wet Monday afternoon."

      "What happened?" Cally asked.

      It was clear that he'd have to tell them something. It was going to be obvious that something was wrong between himself and Avon anyway. They'd hopefully settle down to their old way of working before too long, but the next few days were bound to be difficult. Would Avon try to leave the  _Liberator_? Was this sexual attraction part of the reason he had stayed until now? It was all still new for him to be able to be able to put it properly in place.

      "Well?"

      Blake realised with a start that he'd been miles away. "Sorry," he apologised. It seemed to be his day for apologising.

      "Avon thought I was making a pass at him."

      Vila burst out laughing. "I bet that really pissed Avon off. Prim and proper Avon thinking that you were after his virtue!"

      "I do not understand," Cally said. "Why should Avon think that you desire him sexually? You are both men."

      "I kissed him," Blake said wearily. "It was a joke," he added hastily, seeing the look in Jenna's eye. "Avon just misinterpreted it."

      "I trust you sorted that out with him," she replied icily.

      "I did, but Avon's not very happy with me at present."

      A giggle from Vila distracted Blake from Jenna's disapprobation. "You and Avon! I wish I'd been there to see it. I just wish I could have seen the look on his face."

      Avon's face. Blake shivered. The look of loss in Avon's eyes would haunt him. The naked need he had glimpsed before Avon had turned away from him. Would Avon ever forgive Blake for seeing him like that? For knowing the depth of his passions?

      Funny how the others all assumed so automatically that Avon had rejected his advances. Or was it so unlikely given the emotionless face that Avon normally showed to the world? It was probably best if he left them thinking that - it would cause Avon the minimum of embarrassment. "Look," Blake said seriously. "Avon is touchy enough as it is. I'd appreciate it if you don't tease him about this." He caught their eyes in turn.

      Cally nodded. "Of course."

      "All right," said Jenna, but in a tone that suggested he hadn't quite heard the last about the incident from her.

      "Vila?" Blake queried.

      Vila squirmed. Blake could well imagine that the thief would well love to rub Avon's nose in this for weeks to come. The potential results didn't bear thinking about. "Vila," he said again, more firmly this time.

      "Oh, all right."

      Blake looked around for Gan, but Gan was nowhere to be seen. Had he been here when Blake got back? He couldn't quite remember. It was odd really, but in spite of Gan's size, he was sometimes the easiest person to overlook in the group. Oh well, he'd just have to clear things with Gan later. At least Gan, unlike Vila, wasn't the type to tease. Avon might not be his favourite person, but Blake found it hard to imagine Gan picking on anyone.

      

Gan moved through the trees. The contrast from the bright sunlight on the beach was quite surprising. Here, above the tide line, the trees rooted firmly and their branches wove a close canopy. The coolness on his skin was welcome after the heat of the sun. He rubbed abstractedly at his shoulder where a patch of skin was peeling. The girls had made better use of sun protection creams than he had - Cally in particular was picking up quite a good tan. Perhaps Auron was a sunny planet? Gan wondered briefly about that, and then resumed his search. Avon had to be here somewhere.

      He was worried about Avon.

      

The tree was ancient. Avon held onto it, as though it was the only solid thing left in the world. The bark was rough, real - when it scratched him, he knew he was still capable of feeling physical pain. It made a fitting counterpoint to the turmoil inside him.

      Until now, life had been bearable. Blake's kiss had shattered the safe wall that he had built around himself, had forced into the open every feeling that Avon had tried to deny. He wanted Blake. He wanted their bodies twined in passionate abandon. He wanted them to have sex together until they collapsed in exhaustion. 

      The tree kept him upright, stopped him sliding back down to the ground and the temptation to lose himself in dreams. He pressed his body harder against the broad trunk, feeling the erection that betrayed him, and the aching need that it bestowed upon him. There was an emptiness in his soul, and it was growing. Blake didn't want him, so what was the point of anything any more? Was he simply to live each day jerking himself off in solitude, living close to Blake and being unable to touch him? The thought of sharing  _Liberator_ with Blake for the rest of his foreseeable life was almost unbearable - and Blake knowing, just made it worse.

      "Avon." Gan's voice spoke gently from behind him.

      "Go away!" Avon hissed.

      He would not turn around and look at anyone, he knew his face would reveal his feelings all too clearly at present.

      "No."

      Gan was infuriating. He could be almost as pig-headed as Blake on occasion.

      "Please go," Avon whispered. Had Blake told them all what had happened? If he had, Avon was getting off at the next civilised world they reached. It was bad enough that Blake knew his weakness, for the others to know it too was humiliation beyond bearing.

      It was almost as though Gan had divined his thoughts. He said, "Blake told them that you turned him down."

      "If that's the case," Avon snarled, "who the Hell told you any different?"

      Gan said simply, "You did."

      Avon spun to face him, eyes blazing, searching Gan's face for any sign of mockery. He found none.

      "I've seen the way you look at Blake when he's not watching you." Gan seemed quite calm about what he was saying. He even anticipated Avon's next question. "I don't think the others have noticed."

      "So what makes  _you_  smarter than everyone else?" Avon didn't bother hiding his contempt for Gan.

      Gan looked hurt for a moment, then apparently decided to ignore the insult. My cousin Shev had a male lover. I shared a room with them for a while, before I got married."

      Avon's lips twisted into a sneer. "A menage a trois?"

      Gan flushed. He obviously didn't understand the French, but the implication had been clear enough. He tensed, hands balling into fists. "I should leave you," he said. "It's what you deserve."

      "I never asked you to come here," Avon pointed out.

      Normally, Avon's antagonism would have driven him away, but Gan could see the strain in Avon's face, the tension in the way he was standing. He was alone, with a need that he had no outlet for. It wasn't really Blake's fault, Gan thought inwardly, he simply hadn't understood what he was doing to Avon.

      "I don't like you, Avon," Gan said slowly. "But when Jos was transported to Exbar, Shev hanged himself. I wouldn't wish that on anyone - not even you. You need help. I can give it to you."

      " _You?_ " The tone was incredulous, but Gan thought he detected a thread of something else in it. Hard to be sure. He plunged on regardless, before his nerve ran out.

      "I'm not Blake," he said awkwardly, "but..." He held an arm out in invitation.

      Avon wavered visibly.

      Gan didn't move. Avon stuck him as being like a small lost child trying to decide whether to trust a strange grown up. Would the stranger help him find his mother, or try to attack him? It was no use him reassuring Avon that he wouldn't tell anyone about this - either Avon trusted his discretion or he didn't.

      Avon took a step towards him. "If you ever tell anyone about this, I'll kill you."

      Gan stretched out both arms to offer a full embrace. Avon, still looking as tense as ever, stepped abruptly into the dangerous circle and Gan folded his arms around him. Avon shuddered in his embrace, then wrapped his own arms around Gan, the fingers clawing deeply into the muscles of Gan's back. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, exposing the throat.

      As Gan's lips touched his, Avon was lost in sensation. In his mind now, it was Blake who held him, Blake who was kissing him. The kiss drew him away from reality into a world where everything was safe. No Federation to pursue him, all the money he could ever wish for, and Blake to share his bed. But that would be too easy. Things could never be simple between himself and Blake. There had to be the danger, the excitement, the perpetual fights that made them hate each other even as they them drew closer together. Some days he wanted to screw the living daylights out of Blake. Today though... Today, he just wanted Blake to acknowledge him, to accept his desires, to -

      Ah, that was it. Avon felt the hand at the waistband of his shorts. It moved inside and began to explore him. As they kissed, fingers delicately explored his testicles, his penis. His breathing quickened, to come in short gasps as the fingers gently stroked his erection. Avon broke free from the kiss, and buried his head in the broad shoulder in front of him. "Blake," he whispered painfully. "Blake."

      The hand grew firm around his penis, pumping steadily in time to the rhythm of his own ragged breathing. Or was he breathing in time with the movement? Avon no longer knew, no longer cared. He came suddenly, semen spurting from him, and he collapsed in relief into the arms holding him.

      Gan held the body steadily in his arms for a few minutes, then Avon straightened up and backed away from. Gan released him without comment. Avon's head nodded briefly in thanks, then the computer technician turned and walked away into the woods.

      Gan watched Avon go. He hadn't expected anything more from him. His eyes turned in the other direction, towards the sea. 

      Upon reflection, it seemed the perfect time for a swim.

      

      

Avon hesitated outside the door of Gan's cabin. He tried to come here as little as possible. It had been three weeks since they had last had sex together. Blake was getting impossible though. He had had the chance to kill Travis after that stupid duel, and he had declined. Travis would have killed him readily enough. Couldn't Blake ever get that into his thick skull?   _I would have enjoyed it_  indeed. Surely, enjoying killing Travis was just one more reason for doing it? Right now though, if he couldn't screw some sense into Blake's stupid hide, at least there was Gan.

      Mind made up, he pressed the button for admittance.

      Gan was sitting on his bed with the bookviewer.

      "What are you reading?" Avon asked, more as a conversation opener than from any real interest.

      Gan put the viewer to one side. "Nothing that you'd find interesting."

      Out of sheer perversity, Avon took a look at the tape, and was slightly surprised to discover it was a book on electronics. Basic to be sure, but more than he would have thought Gan capable of. "Why didn't you ask me for some help," Avon said.

      "I did, last week," Gan replied. "You were busy."

      Avon couldn't remember, but then he'd been busy most of the last week with a rather fascinating investigation into the functioning of the auto-repair system. It didn't matter particularly - he hadn't come here to be intellectual anyway. He reached out for Gan's shoulders and pushed him back onto the bed, images of Blake already filling his head.

      

      

A row of figures flashed across the screen. Avon concentrated hard on the results of his program. He'd taken some readings from the Avalon android and the results were fascinating. It was a pity that he no longer had the original to study.

      There was a knock on his door.

      "Come in," Avon said, slightly annoyed at being interrupted.

      Gan stood hesitant in the entrance.

      "Well," Avon asked impatiently, "what is it?"

      Gan closed the door behind him, and Avon's eyes narrowed slightly at Gan's assumption that he was welcome to stay. 

      "I need you," Gan said simply.

      "Can't it wait?" Avon snapped. "I'm in the middle of a complicated analysis."

      "No."

      Avon blinked in surprise at the determination in Gan's voice.

      "We all nearly died today." Gan held out a finger and a thumb, grasping an invisible purple sphere. "We were  _that_  close to death.   _I_  was that close to death. Tonight I want to remind myself that I'm alive. I want somebody to hold me tight and say that they care for me - even if it's only you, Avon."

      "So what's the problem?" Avon said, resigned to the loss of an evening. "We fuck each other." He found the crudity of the expression helped to distance himself from what he was doing with Gan.

      Gan came closer, slightly menacing. "The problem is  _you_." He grabbed Avon's shoulder unexpectedly in one big strong hand. Normally Gan's strength simply helped to reinforce Avon's imaginings of Blake; now the force on his shoulder was more than he felt Blake to be capable of. "I don't want you to  _fuck_  me." Gan punctuated each word with a shake. "I want you to  _make love_  to me." He released Avon abruptly. "If you're capable of understanding the difference."

      Avon rubbed his shoulder, scowling.

      "And another thing," Gan added. "I want you to make love to  _me_ , not to Blake. I want you to call  _my_  name when you come, not his."

      Avon glared at him. "Or else?" he said softly.

      "Or else it's over between us. I've always given you what you needed. Partly out of respect for Shev's memory, and partly because you're a part of this crew. But you've never given a damn about me." Avon listened, almost in fascination. He'd rarely heard Gan say so much in so short a space of time. "You make it obvious that you think I'm stupid. It never occurs to you to ask if I'm busy when you call. You never ask if I enjoy what we do together."

      "Well, do you?" Avon snapped.

      "Sometimes," Gan replied. "But only sometimes."

      Avon wasn't quite sure how to answer that. He stared hard at Gan, trying to intimidate the other man into backing down from the stance he had taken. But for once, Gan wasn't backing down. Actually, thinking about it, Avon was forced to admit that Gan rarely backed down from anything. Although he usually followed Blake with what Avon considered to be blind recklessness, on the rare occasions when Gan did disagree with their leader, he stuck to his principles.

      So, Avon reflected, what was he going to do? He could tell Gan exactly where to shove it, or he could make an attempt at faking what Gan wanted. Looking at it realistically, he surmised that he at least owed it to Gan to make the effort.

      "All right," he acquiesced. "I'll try and make it good for you."

      Gan looked uncertain.

      Avon sighed. "What do you want? A romantic dinner for two with violins in the background." He regretted it once he'd said it. Sarcasm wasn't really appropriate to the situation. At the same time though, it was an excellent defence.

      Gan shook his head slowly. Maybe his brain cells were still trying to work out whether it had been an insult or a serious suggestion. Avon watched him closely. Gan had a slight lost look in the corner of his eyes. He'd understood all right. Sometimes it was easy to forget that the big galoot had feelings. Well, he amended, easy to ignore the fact at any rate.

      "Would you like a drink?" Avon asked abruptly. It was probably the first polite thing he'd said since Gan had walked through the door.

      "Please."

      Avon had a small, but select stock of wine, carefully assembled whenever  _Liberator_  visited places where such things could be acquired. He picked out a bottle of a fairly unassuming wine from Rigel IV, and then acting on an impulse he couldn't quite analyze, he replaced it and took out another one instead. Ridiculous of course, Gan wouldn't appreciate the vintage - but that needn't prevent Avon from enjoying it. Choosing two crystal glasses from a shelf, he removed a pile of electronic spares from a table and placed the glasses on it.

      The corkscrew was still in the cupboard. An archaic way of opening bottles that were archaic in themselves. Still, it was the custom in the elite alpha circles to use only the best, and without doubt the wines produced in the classical manner were the best. Even if most of the alphas were actually unable to tell the difference... Avon looked around for anything that would act as a serviette to wrap around the neck of the bottle. The whim had suddenly seized him to play the urbane alpha host. The only thing that came to light was a thin sheet of white insulation fabric. What did it matter? Gan wasn't going to notice the difference. Avon folded it carefully in position around the bottle. It didn't give a terribly good grip, but then the wine hadn't been chilled, so the bottle wasn't as slippery as it might have been anyway.

      Custom required him to ask Gan's approval of the vintage. Avon decided to skip that step. Custom also required that you didn't insult your guests. It wasn't so much the fact that Gan knew nothing about wine - as the fact that Gan knew, that Avon knew, that Gan knew nothing. Standing beside the table, Avon removed the cork and poured Gan a small quantity.

      "Thanks."

      Avon waited for Gan to taste it, but Gan was obviously waiting for Avon to pour himself a glass. Well, Gan had his own manners, even if they weren't those of the elite. Tiring of the game, Avon filled the rest of Gan's glass and poured one for himself. Sitting down, he swirled the wine around in its glass to release the aroma and took a small sip. The flavour was warm and mellow. Avon relaxed a little and leaned back to watch Gan.

      Gan tasted his own drink with rather less finesse. "Nice taste," he commented. "Different from Vila's stuff."

      "Better or worse?" Avon asked out of curiosity.

      Gan tilted his head a little to one side. "Not better. Not worse. Just different. Mind you," he said, smiling and visibly relaxing, "I could grow to like it if I had some more."

      So how did that rate on Avon's scale of wine connoisseurship? Personally he considered Vila's stock as consisting mainly of pure rotgut. It was probably all a matter of education when it came down to it. How could anyone acquire a decent palate without the opportunity to buy decent wines in the first place? Maybe Gan just needed educating a little. A lot, Avon amended, as he watched the way Gan gulped down his drink.

      "More?" Avon asked.

      "Sure." Gan refilled his own glass, and topped up Avon's without being asked.

      Avon twirled the stem of his glass thoughtfully between his fingers, and considered the situation. This was simply a problem to be analyzed like any other. If Gan wanted sex, why should he worry about it? It was an easy enough thing to give. The difference was that they were here in Avon's room, in his own territory: if anything that happened here, he couldn't dismiss it quite so casually.

      Gan was watching him. Trying not to be too obvious about it, Avon studied him back. Gan seemed more at ease now, but he still sat very upright in his chair. His eyes flicked over Avon, making Avon feel as though he was being mentally undressed. That irritated him. If it had been Blake, that would have been another thing, but it wasn't Blake.

      Gan's voice interrupted his musings. "What were you working on?" he asked, sounding slightly apologetic.

      "The Avalon android. The programming was quite fascinating."

      "She's a very special woman." He obviously meant Avalon and not the android. At least, Avon assumed that he did.

      "Another idealist," Avon said dismissively. If only they were so easy to dismiss in reality. He found that it never paid to analyze his feelings for Blake too closely. If he considered only the sexual attraction, he didn't have to think about the rest of it. Sex then. All he had to give Gan was sex - he didn't have to get involved.

      Avon smiled - the kind of smile that would have looked at home on a predatory tiger, and gestured towards the bed.

      

      

His internal clock said that he was due on watch in half an hour. Avon rolled over, and rested a light hand on the broad chest of the man lying beside him. He could feel the rise and fall of the ribs as Gan breathed, lost in the depths of sleep.

      It had been quite a night. Avon stretched out his body in vivid remembrance. Sometime during the night, seeking someone else's pleasure rather than his own, he had found a person that he'd never really bothered to look for before. Instead of being a largely passive sexual partner, Gan had come alive, displaying gifts and a sense of humour than Avon had never even suspected. He remembered lying helpless on his back while Gan tickled the soles of his feet. Gan inside him, mercilessly plundering him, while he cried out, suspended in some far realm beyond pain or pleasure. The feel of Gan's hair as he twisted it between his fingers, the scent of him when he was aroused. All that and more.

      Acting on impulse, Avon bent over and kissed Gan lightly on the lips. Gan stirred in his sleep. " _Avalon,"_  he murmured.

      It wasn't the name that surprised Avon - it was the fact that it hurt.


End file.
